


Second Guess Myself to Death

by ChronicCombustion



Series: Scars On My Sleeve (For All the World to See) [1]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Depression, Dissociation, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of Izanagi (Persona 4), Mentions of Shadow!Souji (Persona 4), Past Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, Trans Male Character, Trans Souji Seta, Yosuke is Best Boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicCombustion/pseuds/ChronicCombustion
Summary: Some days are good.Some days, Souji will be his usual self; warm and bright and open, comfortable with his own existence and at peace with the world around him. But not all days are good days.For every day that is good there is always a bad one to follow.He’s never been as afraid of losing his partner, his lover, to the blackness in Souji’s own mind as he is on the days when there is a void behind his partner’s eyes where hope and light should have been.Today is a bad day.





	Second Guess Myself to Death

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, well... I didn't get to participate in SouYoWriMo because I was moving out of state, but uhm, have this? The first thing I publish for the P4 fandom and it's depressing as hell. (Still SouYo, though.) 
> 
> This is actually part of a series I've been planning for a while now - this particular oneshot is set after the events of the main fic and has some references to things that take place therein, (so, a few minor spoilers) but it isn't necessary to read the main fic first to read this one. Which is good, because by posting this first I'm going completely out of order and I have no idea when I'll even get the main fic up. ^^; 
> 
> I didn't exactly mean for this to be done in time for Trans Awareness Week 2018, but by sheer coincidence it was, so I'm deciding to post on Trans Day of Remembrance because, well... I feel like I should. Please take care of each other out there; we as a community have to stick together. I love you all.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Tread carefully - there's talk of heavy depression and dysphoria.]**

Some days are good.

Some days, Souji will be his usual self; warm and bright and open, comfortable with his own existence and at peace with the world around him. It’s on those days that Souji is at his most approachable, his most easy-going. He participates in class, plays with Nanako after dinner, helps his friends with their homework, takes a shift at the daycare. Nothing is out of the ordinary on those days because those days are _good._

On the good days, Souji is like a lighthouse. He glows in the dark, a stable, commanding presence that emanates security, solidity. His voice is soft, his laugh quiet but abundant, his face clear of the lines and shadows that mar it when his mind turns against him. He _smiles._

Those are the days where everything is normal, everything is _right._ Yosuke loves those days; it means he can breathe. On those days, Yosuke knows there is a chance of seeing his favorite thing about Souji: that tiny, shy curling at the edges of Souji’s mouth every time they catch each others’ gaze.

But not all days are good days.

For every day that is _good –_ where Souji chuckles at Yosuke’s jokes and brings extra food to share at lunch and coos over the cats on the riverbank and holds Yosuke’s hand like it’s something precious – there is always a _bad_ one to follow.

On the bad days, it’s far too much like when Souji had first come to Inaba, back when everyone was a stranger and his parents’ influence was still so fresh – like a layer of poisonous residue over his heart – and he’d been worn to nearly the point of breaking. On the bad days, Souji’s voice is gone. His face is blank, closed off like he’s hidden himself behind a lonely wall. His actions and his words, if he uses them at all, are monotone, robotic, devoid of all signs of life or warmth. He isolates himself, keeps his head down and his hands at his sides and if Yosuke manages to wrap their fingers together then Souji’s grip is weak and lax. Or worse, it’s like iron, like Yosuke is the only lifeline that Souji has left and he’s terrified of letting go.

Yosuke hates those days.

He hates seeing the light drain out of his partner’s eyes, hates the cold feeling he gets in his chest when he realizes that Souji is on autopilot. He hates the silence and the forced politeness, the switch from Living Person to Empty Shell. He hates it, hates watching the weight pile back up on Souji’s shoulders until it looks like the only thing keeping his friend upright is his sense of obligation. It reminds Yosuke of all the things Souji has kept bottled up over the years before he’d met the Investigation Team. It sickens him.

But what Yosuke hates the absolute most is not knowing where Souji’s mind has sunken to and from what black, gaping hole the self-hate has begun to pour.

Every time it happens, Yosuke can see the slow creep of depression as it swallows the brightness Souji keeps at his core. He’s learned to watch for it, to recognize the way Souji starts to fidget like he can’t get comfortable, starts to avoid looking at anything reflective, starts to hunch and hold himself as though he’s trying to keep the cracks from showing, to keep himself from splitting apart. Those are the days that Yosuke fears, because he doesn’t know how to make them go away, doesn’t know how to stop them from coming back, and he’s so, so scared that one day they’ll eclipse the good days and blot them out entirely. He’s never been as afraid of losing his partner, his _lover_ to the blackness in Souji’s own mind as he is on the days when there is a void behind his partner’s eyes where hope and light should have been.

Today is a bad day.

Yosuke sees it the moment Souji walks into the classroom that morning, just a few minutes before the bell rings. He’s not late, exactly, but “late” for Souji is anything that isn’t super early. Yosuke had had his suspicions when Souji hadn’t been there to walk to school with him, but there are times when he and Souji’s morning routines just don’t match up, so Yosuke had pushed aside the knot in his stomach and carried on his way. But then Souji hadn’t already been in the room when Yosuke had arrived.

That was… worrying. Not unheard of, no, but usually if Souji wasn’t waiting for Yosuke on the way to school then he was already _at_ school by the time Yosuke got there. And even on the rare occasions where that wasn’t case either, then Souji was only a few steps behind him – even loitering in the hallway until he spotted Yosuke approaching. But not today. Today, Souji slips into his seat a full ten minutes after Yosuke is already seated, nearly the last one to enter the room.

Yosuke is instantly on alert, eyes roving over the back of his partner’s head because Souji has yet to turn around to greet him, has yet to acknowledge anybody, really. Even Yukiko and Chie who had been chatting wildly about a new recipe they wanted to try (much to Yosuke’s mounting horror,) had failed to get anything more than a silent nod in response to their greeting. They must notice it, too, that something is terribly off, because Yosuke sees them share a look of concern before glancing over at Yosuke to see his reaction. He’s discovered that, anymore, everyone seems to gauge whether or not they should be worried about their leader based on if Yosuke is worried. And right now he is very, very worried.

Souji had kept his eyes down as he’d sat, but Yosuke had caught the deep rings of purple beneath Souji’s eyes, the lines around his lips where he’d been pursing them. Souji’s hair is limp, too, a little mussed – nothing that couldn’t be explained away by the wind outside, but still odd for someone as meticulous as Souji to not have already straightened out.

From behind, Yosuke can see that Souji’s uniform is wrinkled slightly. Only in certain places, but the creases make Yosuke think that the fabric has been lain on at some point – like someone had slept in it.

Like Souji had gone straight to bed after basketball practice yesterday and never even changed out of his uniform.

Like Souji hadn’t even had time to change or iron out his jacket before coming in this morning.

Like Souji hadn’t been able to get himself out of bed until the very

last

moment.

Yosuke looks over at Chie and Yukiko, returning their unsteady expressions with one of his own.

Today is a bad day.

           

Classes start and nothing changes. Souji keeps himself rigid, facing forward with his head bowed slightly, like something is pressing down on the back of his neck. He doesn’t move except to drag his pencil across his notebook, doesn’t make a sound except to answer a question if called on. But Yosuke doubts Souji is present enough to be absorbing anything from the lectures today, doubts there are any real notes in Souji’s book, doubts that the answers Souji gives are ones he couldn’t easily give in his sleep with no thought required.

Autopilot.

Lifeless and robotic.

Yosuke is reminded of Izanagi, twisted by grief and shadows until he looks like a painted porcelain doll, expression smooth and blank as stone.

Yosuke’s stomach turns.

Thankfully it’s a Saturday. By the time the end of the day rolls around Yosuke is practically vibrating with nervous energy, mind shuffling through a thousand different options as he tries to think of something to pull Souji back out of the sinking darkness he’s lost in. Yosuke hates that he hasn’t been able to directly interact with his best friend all morning. A small, shadowy part of him wonders if he could have done something to fix the situation if he’d been able to act earlier. The rational part of him knows he probably couldn’t have. Souji’s depression often seeps in like toxic sludge; slowly, quietly, eating away at his mind until Souji has no energy left to fight it off with and no way of realizing it’s happening until it’s already too late.

He’d even said that to Yosuke once, how he only ever rarely got a warning before a depressive spell hit. He’d grown so used to the feeling of it being there, hovering constantly in the back of his mind, that it just snuck up on him most of the time. That, or it had just never truly receded in the first place.

Yosuke just wishes he could learn to see it sooner, even if Souji can’t.

But even as he’s gotten better at opening up about his illness, Souji doesn’t often talk about what’s on his mind, so Yosuke knows that beating himself up over “what ifs” won’t help anyone. Right now he needs to be there for Souji.

Yosuke has a brief, silent conversation with Chie. She frowns, brows curling upward in clear distress, but nods at him anyway and leads Yukiko away before she can lay a tentative hand on Souji’s arm. Yosuke nods in thanks as they leave. He sighs. He knows they want to help – Souji is _their_ friend, too, their _leader –_ but Yosuke is at least familiar enough with his partner’s body language by now to know too many voices would do nothing to help today. Souji would probably put on a painfully fake smile and robotically reassure the girls that he was fine, just tired, and then slip out the door to be alone before anyone could call him out on it. Just like he used to do.

Yosuke moves to Chie’s vacant seat and sits. He rests his elbows on his knees and watches Souji, determined to keep vigil until he’s sure he can get the other boy’s attention without scaring him off.

Souji, for his part, doesn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings at all; he sits with his head bowed so low he’s practically facedown on the desk, arms tucked tightly against his abdomen like he’s nauseous. His hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists around his sleeves. Though Souji’s hair hangs down in front of his face, obscuring everything behind it, Yosuke can see Souji’s eyes from his position at his partner’s side. They are hollow, lifeless, ringed in red and framed with deep, bruise-like shadows. They focus on nothing, staring down at the empty air between his desk and face.

Below the desk, though, is where Yosuke gets his first solid clue as to what’s happening in Souji’s mind.

Souji sits with his legs crossed tightly at the ankle, knees bent and feet tucked up underneath his chair, supported by the toe of one of his shoes. It’s a relatively unassuming pose – pretty standard, really – but it’s the way the position presses Souji’s thighs together like a vice that gives it all away. His legs are tight, drawn in close to his body, with the blockade of his arms resting just at the bend in his hips, right at the junction of his torso and thighs. He sits like he’s sick, like everything from the waist down is in pain.

And that’s when Yosuke understands.

It’s _that_ kind of bad, _bad_ day.

“…Partner?”

Souji doesn’t react at first and Yosuke wonders if the other boy had even heard him. He licks at his lips and leans in slightly, ready to try again, when Souji seems to take his first breath in hours. His motions are stilted, minute, but this close up Yosuke can see the way his partner’s shoulders twitch, the way his head cants just so as if he’s instinctively tilting his ear towards Yosuke’s voice. It isn’t much but it’s something.

Souji uncurls with aching slowness. He seems to stop and start like a dying battery, the joints in his spine hitching as he straightens them one by one. To Yosuke, he looks like a wind-up toy coming back to life with only a single twist of his key – rusted springs and weathered bolts reanimating as best they can before the rest of the mechanisms catch up. It feels like hours have passed before Souji is finally upright, though he keeps his arms around himself and his thighs clamped tightly together.

Yosuke can spot the moment his friend returns to the world outside his own mind. There is a stuttering twitch of Souji’s eyelids as he blinks himself back into existence. The dimness is his eyes melts away like delicate frost and though Souji still isn’t looking at him, Yosuke feels a faint trace of relief that his boyfriend is at least _focusing,_ is _seeing_ for the first time since the bell rang. It means Souji is aware again, present in the room, and it means that Yosuke has a chance of helping now.

Souji blinks again, sluggish and languid. His eyes trail lethargically around the room as if he finally recognizes where he is. Yosuke waits silently for his partner to realize he’s there, keeping still to make sure he doesn’t startle Souji or spike his anxiety. Eventually, stormy-grey eyes turn to him and Souji’s lips part just slightly as if in exhale.

“Yosuke?”

Yosuke gives his partner a sad, watery smile. It feels wrong on his face but he’d rather it sit poorly on his features than let his boyfriend see just how torn up he is inside. Souji’s voice sounds too small, too tired and thin and raspy; too much like a creaking floorboard right before it caves. He hates it. _God,_ he hates it _so much,_ Souji should never have to sound like that. Yosuke almost feels like crying but he keeps it at bay. Souji doesn’t need to see that right now, Souji needs him to be the strong one and so Yosuke will be as strong as he needs to be to keep his friend from being pulled back under the surface of that dark, dark water.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. He clears his throat to keep his voice from cracking; tries again. “Yeah, I’m here.”

This is usually the part where Souji would reach for him, where Yosuke would reach back and link their fingers together. A silent exchange of question and answer: _Yes, I’m still here. No, I won’t leave._ But Souji doesn’t reach. He doesn’t move towards Yosuke at all. Instead, Souji’s face contorts for a moment – a brief flash of pain and shame and cloistering misery – before sliding back into an expressionless mask. He lowers his eyes again, looking down and away as his shoulders hunch once more.

“…When did class end?”

Yosuke steals a glance at the clock over the door, trying to keep the sudden weight in his lungs from immobilizing him. “Uhm,” he starts, utterly surprised, “about an hour ago, actually.” He takes a moment to look around the classroom and discovers that it’s entirely empty except for the two of them. He can hear the muffled chatter of other students in the hall so he knows the school isn’t completely deserted, but he’d had no idea so much time had already passed. In his narrowed, Souji-oriented bubble of focus he must not have noticed everyone else meandering out of the room.

For a second Souji tilts his head up and he looks just as startled as Yosuke. Then the surprise melts away and the familiar emptiness takes its place. He looks back down at his desk, letting out a long breath through his nose. “Oh…” His fingers twist in the fabric of his sleeves as the quiet settles back in around them. “I didn’t mean for you to wait so long,” he murmurs after a bit. “You should have gone ahead without me.”

Yosuke shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, no way, Partner.” He leans in a little farther, tilting to the side so he can try and catch Souji’s eyes. He thinks he sees a bit of rain-cloud-grey peer back at him. He tries to smile. “I’m not gonna leave you alone when you’re like this.”

He means to stand, to reach out and touch Souji’s shoulder now that his partner is cognizant, _something,_ but before he can move Souji speaks again.

His voice is still just as small but now instead of the hollowness it held before, there is a tinge of sadness that seems to sink all the way down to Souji’s bones. “…Why me?”

Yosuke is stunned. His mouth opens and closes again as he tries to figure out how to react. Souji doesn’t sound self-pitying – though Yosuke isn’t sure Souji’s even capable of that – but rather, _resigned._ In the end, Yosuke can only manage a confused, “wh…what?” in reply.

Souji slides down in his chair. “Why me?” he repeats. His arms tighten around his hips, legs drawing up as far as they can with the position he’s in. “You could have anybody you wanted. You could… you could have an… an _actual_ boyfriend, instead of…” Souji’s breath hitches. He scrunches his eyes shut, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as they start to shake. “Instead of …”

He chokes on the end of his sentence. Gritting his teeth he limply tugs an arm free from the vice-like grip he has on his sleeves and gestures sharply at the length of his own curled, trembling body. _“This;_ whatever the hell _I_ am. Why would you want something… _wrong_ like me when you deserve so much better?” He still doesn’t look up, keeping his eyes tightly shut as if terrified of what he might see in Yosuke’s expression.

“Don’t.”

Yosuke’s voice is soft but firm. There is no room in his tone for argument. “Don’t you dare say that about yourself, you’re not a _thing.”_ He scoots closer, finally able to move from the shock that had held him in place, and gently presses the backs of his fingers to Souji’s elbow. It’s something he’s learned how to do in the time since Izanagi’s dungeon – physical contact that is both grounding and non-threatening. Souji can feel him there beside him but can easily pull away if he needs to.

Yosuke lowers his own eyes to where his hand rests against the black fabric of Souji’s sleeve. He’s invading the other boy’s space a little, he knows, so he makes sure he isn’t starting dead at him in case Souji decides he’s ready to look up. “I said it before, didn’t I? You’re special to me.” He fights down the urge to blush and fidget; reminding himself that no one else is around to hear him. “I meant it.”

Souji does open his eyes then, though he keeps them firmly trained on the desk in front of him, and tilts his head in Yosuke’s direction. He opens his mouth to speak but Yosuke cuts him off before anything self-depreciative can escape.

“I _mean_ it,” he affirms, “and I don’t care what your body’s like because it’s _yours._ ” He ticks his gaze up to catch Souji finally, _finally_ looking at him and he raises his head a little to see if he can hold his eyes. He tries for a quiet smile. It’s a bit shaky, but it stays on. “You’re not broken,” he murmurs. Souji hadn’t said it aloud, but Yosuke knows what his partner is thinking. “And there’s nothing _wrong_ about you. Maybe you think I… ‘deserve better’,” he trips over the words, grimacing as he forces them out, “but I don’t want anybody else. Just you.”

He can feel his smile solidifying as he speaks. He’s grateful; he wants Souji to know just how much he means every word, that he’ll say them over and over again until Souji finally believes him.

For now, though, he’s content to simply sit there and gently brush a knuckle up the side of Souji’s sleeve, a quiet stability whenever the other boy can’t find solid ground.

There’s a quiet huff of breath that could be Souji’s sneaky, tired way of laughing miserably, but he doesn’t protest. He doesn’t speak at all, actually, and Yosuke chooses to believe that it means his partner’s at least heard the honesty in his voice, even if Souji doesn’t fully believe his words. He knows that it isn’t a lack of faith in _him,_ but rather the lack of faith Souji has in _himself_ that keeps Yosuke’s words from hitting home and sticking for any length of time. It’s alright though, Yosuke thinks – even if it really isn’t – because he’s got enough faith in their leader, in his partner, to cover them both. He’s a font of it, and he’ll keep it going for as long as he needs to. Forever, even.

_Forever._

Yosuke inhales quietly as that thought echoes in his head. It should be scary… but it isn’t. A year ago he might have squirmed at the idea, might have made a huge show of being uncomfortable, but right now, sitting with his fingers still resting against his boyfriend’s arm, he finds nothing but a quiet kind of warmth settling in around his heart. He really does want forever with Souji, if Souji will have him. He just needs to convince him it’s what Yosuke really wants.

“Souji,” he calls softly, noting the way the other boy twitches at the sound of his name as opposed to “Partner.” Souji tilts his head further in Yosuke’s direction as grey eyes focus just that much more on Yosuke’s face. Yosuke meets his gaze with every ounce of love and devotion and heart-aching protectiveness that he feels for his boyfriend pulled up from the deepest reaches of his heart. He lets it settle over his expression and turn it soft, sad, determined.

Something like sorrowful hope flickers behind Souji’s eyes and Yosuke knows his partner is _there,_ is _listening,_ however much Souji’s mind might want to rebel _._ Because if nothing else, Yousuke knows that Souji _trusts_ him – even Izanagi had said as much before the darkness in Souji’s head had warped him into something monstrous and self-destructive.

He takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Yosuke moves his hand to rest over Souji’s own, slipping his fingers under the shaking grip Souji has on his jacket sleeve and prying it loose. He tugs gently, and Souji lets him pull the hand away to where Yosuke can wrap his other hand around it, cradling it in both his own in bittersweet reverence.

“I love you,” he repeats quietly. He leans down and presses his cheek against his boyfriend’s fingertips, nuzzling them before pressing the gentlest of kisses to Souji’s palm. “Even if you don’t think you deserve it. Okay? So don’t bother trying to run me off cuz you’re stuck with me now.” He grins, and this time it’s surprisingly easy to do.

A weak, silent shudder wracks through Souji’s body and suddenly he’s leaning sideways out of his seat and burying his face in Yosuke’s shoulder. His free hand fists into Yosuke’s jacket, shaking, and Yosuke can feel something warm and wet begin to seep through the fabric of his collar and onto his skin.

He relinquishes one of his hands to bring an arm around his partner’s back, holding him as Souji finally lances the wound that’s been festering in his heart all day. He sits there, a rock against the tide and lets his boyfriend sob quietly against his neck, all the while rubbing soothing patterns along Souji’s spine and whispering “I love you, I’ve got you, it’s okay” over and over into the other boy’s ear.

Eventually the wave of agony subsides and Yosuke feels Souji’s trembling begin to wane. He tightens his hold marginally, not quite ready to let his boyfriend pull away like he can sense Souji wants to do. They stay that way for a few moments more before Yosuke finally relents and shifts back enough to let the other boy sit up. He does, however, keep his hand firmly curled in Souji’s own.

“…Thank you.”

Yosuke smiles gently at his partner’s quiet words, proud and grateful that Souji had chosen to say that instead of something more self-depreciating like, “I don’t deserve you.” He’d said it before, days, a week, a month ago, Yosuke doesn’t even remember at this point, but he does remember how awful it had been hearing something like that drip like bile from his partner’s mouth.

But this, this is progress. Slow going, and maybe only for the day, but progress nonetheless. One more lingering shadow driven back into the freezing void.

He squeezes Souji’s hand in response, smiling wider when he feels his boyfriend squeeze back. “Hey,” he murmurs, getting to his feet and pulling Souji to stand along with him. “Let’s go grab Aiya’s. I’m betting you haven’t eaten anything today, huh?”

Souji has the presence of mind to look sheepish at that, and Yosuke knows his guess has been correct; Souji rarely thinks of his body’s needs, especially when he’s drowning in hatred for his own skin.

“Yep, figured,” Yosuke chuckles. “Come on, I’m buying.”

Souji bites at his lip. “You don’t have to…” he whispers. The shroud of his self-contempt hasn’t fully left him – it likely won’t for several more hours – and the hesitance to accept anything good or kind still rests like a chain across his neck.

But Yosuke refuses to give it the strength it needs to strangle. He grins. “Yeah but I _want_ to.” He sticks his tongue out from between his teeth in a deliberately childish gesture, diffusing any negative response that Souji might try to form. Just for effect, he winks and adds, “So there.”

It works. Souji laughs – it’s breathy and exhausted and not much more than an exhale, but it’s there. “Alright,” he concedes, looking up at Yosuke and meeting his eyes with a steadiness that hasn’t been there since Yosuke saw him yesterday. The edges of his mouth tilt upwards in semblance of a tired smile and Yosuke can feel something heavy evaporate from his lungs.

Today is a bad day, but today will get better.

He’ll make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from 'Hope of Morning' by Icon For Hire
> 
>  
> 
> Like my work? Wanna geek out with me or buy me a coffee? Come and hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/DaemonSparks) or [tumblr](http://chroniccombustion.tumblr.com/)~


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